"Time table on the wall outside," the man said without looking up.
"I don't want to know about times. I know them. I live in Milford. I want to know if you ever run a double-decker bus on that route."
There was silence for a long time; a silence expertly calculated to end at the point where Robert was about to open his mouth again.
"No," said the man.
"Never?" Robert asked.
This time there was no answer at all. The inspector made it plain that he was finished with him.
"Listen," Robert said, "this is important. I am a partner in a firm of solicitors in Milford, and I—"
The man turned on him. "I don't care if you are the Shah of Persia; there are no double-decker buses on the Milford run! And what do you want?" he added as a small mechanic appeared behind Robert in the doorway.
The mechanic hesitated, as if the business he had come on had been upset by a newer interest. But he pulled himself together and began to state his business. "It's about those spares for Norton. Shall I—"
As Robert was edging past him out of the office he felt a tug on his coat and realised that the little mechanic wanted him to linger until he could talk to him. Robert went out and bent over his own car, and presently the mechanic appeared at his elbow.